


Bound

by still_lycoris



Series: Blake's 7 Daemon Universe [2]
Category: Blake's 7
Genre: Alternate Universe - Daemons, Angst, Daemons, Episode: s04e13 Blake, Gen, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-09
Updated: 2014-03-09
Packaged: 2018-01-15 03:45:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 845
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1290058
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/still_lycoris/pseuds/still_lycoris
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Seeing Blake again isn't what Avon expected ... or what he hoped.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bound

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the 2014 40fandoms LJ challenge. Takes place in the same universe as the earlier one I wrote - where Avon's daemon is a bobcat and Blake's is an African Painted dog.

The alarms are so loud but the minute he sees Blake, he can’t hear anything.

Blake looks … broken. It’s not the scar, it’s not the face, it’s the _eyes_ , the different stare to them, the harshness. And his daemon is at his side and she’s all ruffled and scarred too and her teeth are displayed, almost threatening. And he tells himself not to be unfair, that he must look different too and Lysandra looks far more bleak than she used to, there are even little thin patches in her fur now …

And then Tarrant speaks.

_“He sold us, Avon. All of us. Even you.”_

No.

Oh no.

Please.

And he’s stumbling forward, trying to talk and Blake’s talking too but it’s meaningless, meaningless drivel. Tarrant doesn’t understand … but Tarrant _does_ understand, Avon knows Tarrant now, there’s no lie in that voice, no lie in the exhausted droop of his daemon, Tarrant is saying what he knows and he knows, he knows that Blake’s betrayed them, sold them, oh Blake, Orac said a bounty hunter but he didn’t think he didn’t think, he believed Vila ….

_“I set all this up!”_

And they always do, don’t they? They set you up and knock you down, he knows, he’s been there before, Tynus, Anna … himself now too, oh Vila, poor terrified whimpering Vila and now it’s Blake, Blake, why Blake, why?!

_“Avon, I was waiting for you!”_

And he’s moving forward and his daemon is too, coming towards Lysandra and he remembers Anna’s cat leaping on her, pretend-happy, pretend-playful and the sudden jab of teeth and that’s always how it is, they bite you and tear at you and no, no, no, you have to shoot first, you have to take them first!

So he shoots. And when Blake doesn’t stop, he shoots again. And again.

And Blake’s hands are on his arms. And he can feel the heat and he can see that dog pressing her nose into Lysandra’s side and oh, oh oh …

“ _Avon …_ ”

And he’s on the ground. And with barely the flicker of an eyelid, his daemon is gone.

Blake is dead.

He has murdered Blake.

He stands there, staring at the body. The blood oozing from the jagged wounds, pooling on the floor. Lysandra stands there, scratching gently at where Blake’s daemon was, as though it’ll bring her out of the earth, as though she might come back to explain.

Blake. Oh Blake. Oh Blake. Oh Blake.

He can’t think. He knows he needs to but he can’t. He’s been looking for Blake for so long, longing for him, dreaming of him … it wasn’t supposed to be like this, it wasn’t supposed to go this way, Blake was supposed to be doing well, was supposed to be being brave and true and aggravatingly self-righteous like always, _not like this_.

He believed in Blake …

He wants Lysandra. He wants to talk to Lysandra, hold her in his arms, let her nuzzle his face and lick him and whisper comforts in his ears, like when he was a child, like she always has. But it’s been so long since she did that, so long since he could let her. She sleeps at the foot of his bed, they don’t talk – or she talks and he doesn’t hear, can’t let himself hear. The last time she touched him, she was scratching him, biting him, punishing him for trying to kill Vila, refusing to understand, even though he was trying to save their lives, he had to save their lives, no matter what …

His own daemon doesn’t understand him any more.

He needs to stop thinking. Something is happening, something important, something … something …

Tarrant. Tarrant is shouting for him. Why is Tarrant doing that? He looks up vaguely from Blake’s body – in time to see Tarrant drop.

Tarrant?

He turns slowly, watching the guards filling the room, guns clutched in their hands. Tarrant is on the floor and he can’t see that stag that Tarrant was so proud of, boasted about how special he was because his daemon was a male like him. Where is it? He should be able to see it, it’s so big and impractical …

They’re all on the floor. Soolin, Dayna, Vila … where are their daemons? _Where are their daemons?_ He can’t see that stupid marmoset, that idiotic ferret, that huge, powerful snake. Are they hiding under their humans? Does Vila had Corette huddled in his jacket, is Dayna’s arm draped over Malin? Is Soolin’s snake curled beneath her body?

Or are they dead? Are they dead like Blake? Has he killed them the way he has killed Blake?

He looks at Lysandra. She looks at him, eyes wide – wide and understanding.

For the first time in so, so long, he knows what she’s thinking. She knows what he’s thinking.

Oh, he loves her. He can’t tell her. But it’s all right. She knows.

She leaps gracefully onto Blake’s chest, crouches down, her fur bristling, hissing that hiss of hers. He steps carefully, straddling Blake’s body.

Blake is _theirs_.

He lifts the gun.


End file.
